


Meet-Cute

by sneetchstar



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Meetings, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 15,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26455951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneetchstar/pseuds/sneetchstar
Summary: Various meet-cute one-shots about Arya and Gendry.  Probably all modern AU.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 294
Kudos: 427





	1. Bully

“What’s this then? Little girl reading a big book?”

Arya squeaks in surprise as the book she was reading – _A History of Braavosi Water Dancing_ – is rudely snatched from her hands. She looks up into the round face of a year three boy she doesn’t really know.

For some reason he has decided to pick on her. Him and a smaller, blond boy who is probably also in year three, one year ahead of Arya.

“Give that back!” she demands, standing up and reaching for it.

He holds it up over his head so Arya can’t reach it. She’s a tiny thing, one of the smallest in her year, and even though she knows she doesn’t stand a chance of getting her book back, she jumps and tries anyway.

She may be small, but she is determined.

The boy and his friend laugh. “What’s a pipsqueak like you doing reading about fighting? What are you gonna fight? Ants?” he challenges, laughing some more as he walks backward, still playing keep-away.

Her eyes widen as she sees someone approach behind the fat boy. He’s either a young teacher or the biggest primary school student she’s ever seen.

Her bully grins, thinking she’s growing more afraid. Then he backs into this larger person, who snatches the book out of his hand the same way he did Arya before. Arya’s bully jolts and turns around, shocked.

“You like picking on the little ones, eh?” the large boy or young adult says, looking down at him in a menacing way. “Make you feel like a big man, picking on tiny girls?” he presses, slowly walking forward. “Does that mean I can pick on you then, since _I’m_ bigger than you?” He cracks his knuckles for effect.

It works. The two boys dart away. The big boy hands Arya her book.

“Are you a teacher?” she asks, shoving her book into her backpack. He’s probably taller than her mother, but now that she looks at him, his face is still very youthful.

“Nah, I’m just big. I’m a year six.”

“Why did you help me then?”

“Because I used to be the smallest one in my year, and I know what it’s like,” he says. “Plus I was poor and didn’t have parents then, so I had it triple bad.”

“Oh. Thank you,” she says, not really knowing how to respond to all that. “You were small?”

He nods, then picks up her backpack and carries it for her as they walk back towards the bench. “It’s amazing what a difference proper nutrition can make,” he says. “Though in your case, I think you’re just a small person.”

“Hey!”

“Do you get enough food to eat? _Good_ food?”

“Yes,” she sheepishly answers.

“There you go,” he says. “What’s your name?”

“Arya,” she says.

“I’m Gendry. And if Hot Pie and Lommy bother you again, you tell me, okay?”

They sit, waiting the last few minutes before the school day begins. “How come you didn’t have parents?”

“My mum died and I never knew my real dad,” he answers. “I got parents now, but I was a foster kid for a few years.”

“I’m glad you have parents now.”

“Me too.”

“You’re a year six? Do you know my brother Robb?”

“Robb… Robb Stark?”

“Yeah! And my cousin Jon Targaryen.”

“Yeah, I know them. How come they weren’t with you? Don’t you have a sister, too, in year four?”

“Robb and Jon are probably off being idiots with Theon. And Sansa doesn’t like me. I’m not girly enough for her.”

“You seem fine to me,” Gendry says. “I’ll tell Robb and Jon to do a better job of looking after you—ow! What was that for?”

“I don’t need somebody looking after me! I mean… I’m glad you helped me, but I can take care of myself!” Arya protests.

“That’s not what it looked like to me,” he counters. “But suit yourself. I got enough problems,” he says and starts to get up.

“Wait!” she says, suddenly realizing she doesn’t want him to leave her alone. “I’m sorry. My dad always tells me that it’s not a bad thing to ask for help.”

“Your dad is right,” Gendry says, sitting back down.

“Will you be my friend? Friends… friends help each other, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll be your friend. I don’t have a lot of friends.”

“Me neither.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This collection is my attempt at doing short fics. I have issues.


	2. Fire Alarm

The fire alarm is jarring; harsh and insistent, it jolts Gendry out of a deep sleep. He swears, nearly falls out of bed, grabs the closest garment he can find, then heads for the door.

He swears again when he almost leaves without his keys or wallet.

And then a third time when he remembers he lives in the north now, and it’s _cold_.

He stands in the parking lot of the apartment building, his arms wrapped around his bare torso, feet freezing to the pavement.

“You want a blanket?” Her voice is high and sweet, and he thinks it belongs to a child until he turns to see a young woman looking up at him. Her lovely face is an interesting mix of concern and amusement.

She has her laptop and a small clutch purse, but he sees no blanket. She also appears to be quite comfortable in flannel pants, slippers, and a hoodie.

“You got one stashed in your pocket?” he asks

“It’s in my car,” she answers, gesturing to a small car right behind her. She pulls a key fob out of her pocket and pops the trunk.

A few seconds later, he is wrapped in bright orange fleece. “Thank you,” he breathes.

“You’re new. And I’m guessing you’re not from here,” she says.

“Yes, to both,” he answers. His feet are still freezing, and he tries his hardest not to dance around to keep them off the cold concrete.

“Here,” she says, unlocking her car door. “Get in. I’ll turn the heat on.”

“Oh my gods, thank you again,” he sighs, beyond grateful as he folds his body into the passenger seat of her small car.

“Why don’t you have more clothes on?” she asks, once they are inside. “Not that I’m complaining, mind.”

He huffs a laugh, trying not to preen under her compliment. Or the way her eyes rake over him. She’s really cute and fit and nice and he’s trying not to get distracted by how overwhelming it all is. “I was sleeping,” he answers. “It’s lucky I had presence enough of mind to grab these shorts. Alarm scared the shit out of me and I nearly fell out of bed.”

She smiles again. “That would be rather unfortunate for you, to be out here in the not-at-all-freezing cold without a stitch on. I see you managed to remember your wallet and keys though.”

“Almost didn’t,” he admits. “You seem… awfully chipper for, what is it? 1:36 a.m.?”

“Oh, I was still awake,” she says. “Night owl, me.”

He nods, looking at her as she taps her fingers on the steering wheel.

“You moved in last week,” she says after a minute. “From where?”

“King’s Landing. I got a job up here,” he says.

“Really? Where at?”

“Winter Technologies.”

“My younger brother works there. Brandon Stark. He’s a designer. What do you do?”

“I’m a mechanical engineer, but I’ll look for him.”

“He’ll be easy to spot. He’s the one in the wheelchair.”

“Oh, I know who that is! He seems to be very well-liked.”

She smiles and nods. “I’m Arya, by the way.”

“Gendry,” he answers, offering his hand. She takes it and he likes the feel of it. Her hand is small, but strong.

“Welcome to Winter Town. You might want to consider keeping a cozy bathrobe and some slippers by your bed since you apparently sleep in the buff. You know just in case of things like fire alarms going off in the middle of the night,” she says with a smirk.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he answers, feeling his cheeks heat as he sheepishly looks down. In fact, he notices he is quite warm now.

“Looks like we can go back in,” she says, turning her car off. People are slowly filing back in and the firemen are leaving. “I didn’t see any smoke or anything, so maybe it was just a false alarm.”

“Hope so,” he agrees as they exit her car. He hands her the blanket, and she returns it to her trunk. “Thanks again, Arya. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Anytime, Gendry,” she answers.

They walk inside together and just before they part ways, he feels her small hand on his arm. “Hey,” she says. “Don’t be a stranger.”

He smiles, and they regard each other a little awkwardly for a moment before he summons enough courage to say, “Maybe you could show me around town sometime?”

She returns his smile, her cheeks coloring attractively as she looks down and then back up. “I’d like that,” she says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loosely based on true events that happened to me over 20 years ago, except I gave the bright orange fleece blanket from the trunk of my car to a mom so she could wrap it around the shivering 4-year-old in her arms. Not nearly as exciting.


	3. Speeding Ticket

The police officer stops dead when he sees her face looking at him from inside the car. His shoulders slump, his head dropping to his chest.

“Hello, Officer Waters,” she greets, sounding a little bit too chipper for someone who has just been pulled over for speeding.

And a _lot_ too chipper for someone who has just been pulled over for speeding for the second time this month.

He takes her offered driver’s license. “Miss Stark,” he says after glancing at her name, “what is _wrong_ with you?”

“This car is bloody brilliant, what can I say? I don’t even notice how fast I’m going before it’s too late,” she answers. Then, she gives him a big-eyed pouty look and says, “I’m sorry?”

He would roll his eyes if she didn’t look so damn adorable. But she does, so he doesn’t. He simply sighs and says, “I’ll be back. Behave yourself.”

She is drumming her fingers on her steering wheel when he returns, singing along to the music playing from her sound system. She turns the volume down when he comes close.

“I let you off with a warning last time, but this time I have to give you a ticket,” he says, handing her the slip of paper and her license.

“Of course,” she says. “Did you take my number down while you were writing that up?”

He blinks. “Excuse me, what?”

“My phone number. I’m sure it had to have been in my records somewhere, right?”

“That’s… that’s against protocol. I would never.”

She shifts, posting her elbow on the window ledge and resting her chin on her hand. “Well, then can I have yours?” she asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Arya was speeding on purpose the second time.


	4. Ballet

“Oi! You can’t just stand here and creep on these little girls! I saw you come in and you’re lucky I didn’t call the police!” Her voice is insistent, and Gendry’s attention immediately focuses on the tiny woman marching towards him with a scowl on her face. “This is a private business. Now clear off or I _will_ call the cops.” She is close enough to reach him now, and she pokes him in the chest, hard.

“I—I’m here to pick up my sister,” Gendry says once he recovers, absently rubbing the spot she poked with her very bony finger. “I’ve no inappropriate interest in little girls, I assure you.”

Her eyebrow arches at him. “Your sister. Sure. This is a class for 4- and 5-year-olds. How old are you, 30?”

“I’m 27. Barra is my _half_ -sister,” he says. “And I’d appreciate you getting off my dick about it.”

“Barra?” the woman asks. She peers up at him and seems to finally get a good look at him. “Oh hells, she looks just like you. I’m sorry; I… if I had actually looked at you, I probably would have thought you were her father… oh, wait. No, you couldn’t be her father, could you?” She is babbling now, and finishes her ramble with a whispered, “Shit.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Gendry says, realizing she must know about their absent father. “I suppose I did look a little suspicious, skulking against the wall like this.”

“Oh, um, yeah, kinda,” she says. Then she sticks out her hand. “I’m Arya. Sorry about the accusation. And the poke.”

He grasps her small hand in a brief but firm shake. “I’ve survived worse,” he says, smiling a little as he lets himself notice again how attractive she is. He noticed it right away when he first arrived and saw her working with the young students. He was expecting someone old and snooty, not someone young and beautiful and barely larger than her charges. “And it’s good you’re so protective of them”

“Gotta look out for my little ones. In this city, anyone can be a perv, no matter how fit and handsome they are,” she says. The slightly challenging smirk on her face makes him want to throw her over his shoulder and carry her all the way back to his bed.

He swallows hard. “Yeah,” he croaks. “And tiny dance instructors can apparently intimidate men twice their size just by having an attitude bigger than this room. And a very pointy finger,” he says, slowly recovering.

She laughs. “Sorry about that,” she apologizes again. “Is her mother all right?”

“Yeah. Her mum had an appointment today. She could drop her off but not pick her up. So she asked me, since I happened to be available,” he answers.

That damned eyebrow arches again. “Are you? Available, I mean?”

She must see something she likes in the way he gazes down at her, because her cheeks flush. He bites his lower lip for a second and answers, “Definitely.”

“Gendry!” Barra’s squeal of excitement cuts through the thick atmosphere building between them, and when she barrels into her brother, dropping her dance bag to throw her arms around his waist, the spell is completely broken.

“Hey, Peanut,” Gendry greets. “I was just talking with Miss Arya here while I waited for you. She’s a nice lady, isn’t she?”

“She’s _awesome_!” Barra agrees. “Did you know she trained at the House of Black and White, too? So she’s a ballerina who can kick butt!”

“Is that so?” he asks, glancing at Arya again, who merely shrugs. “That’s very impressive.”

“I know! I want to do that too!” Barra says.

“Well, you’ll need to talk to your mom about that, but in the meantime, I need to get you home,” he says, chuckling fondly at her.

“Hey,” Arya says, handing him a card. “My personal number is on the back. I expect you to call me, and soon.”

Gendry looks down at the card, then back at her. “Definitely,” he repeats. “I definitely will.”

“Gendry! Can we get pizza?” Barra shouts at him from the door.

“You had better go before she hotwires your car,” Arya says, laughing.

“I haven’t taught her how to do that… _yet_ ,” Gendry responds, grinning at her before he follows his little sister out the door. “Yeah, we’ll get some pizza and take it to your house for all three of us,” he says, glancing over his shoulder one last time to see Arya watching him walk away.

He calls her that night.


	5. Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry has an office with a window.

Gendry likes having an office of his own. He moved from his cubicle a few months ago after the previous occupant retired and his boss decided he would benefit from having his own space.

The best part about his office is that it has a window that faces the street. It’s a fairly busy street, and he sees a fair number of passers-by on the sidewalk. He’s on the ground floor, so it can be rather entertaining.

The pedestrians range from students from the nearby school to people walking dogs (which he enjoys) to senior citizens slowly ambling by. Occasionally there are oddities, like the shirtless man (who should not have been shirtless) wearing an eye patch walking a dog and the lady who was either talking on a Bluetooth headpiece or to the pizza she was carrying.

But his favorite one began showing up about two weeks ago. Twice a day she walks past. He thought she was a student at first, but then he realized that not only did she look too professional to be a student, but her schedule was just slightly different than the students’.

Petite, slim, with dark hair and a pretty face, she walks quickly and with purpose. Like she knows exactly where she is going and has important things to do when she gets there.

It has gotten to the point where he knows exactly when she will be passing, and he always stops what he is doing to watch her walk past. He knows he’s safe to do so because the windows are reflective on the outside and she cannot see in.

He feels like a bit of a creep sometimes. He tells himself it’s just because he thinks she’s pretty and seems like an interesting person.

And obviously if someone happens to be in his office when she passes, he doesn’t stop and look.

This goes on for a few weeks, until one dark morning reveals the one flaw in the office building’s windows: when it is dark outside and the lights are on inside, the people outside can see him.

And so he gets caught. Sitting at his desk, chin resting on his fist with his elbow on the desktop, he perks up when she passes.

His motion draws her attention and she looks up. Her steps slow as she peers at him, her eyes narrowing.

 _Oh shit. Can she see me?_ Gendry hurriedly, obviously goes back to work, turning towards his computer, his hand grabbing his pen mouse so he can resume working on his design. After a second, he peeks out the window.

She is laughing at him. Not in a mocking way, thankfully. It looks like she is genuinely amused by what has transpired on this dark, gloomy morning. She gives him a wave and continues on her way.

Gendry’s head falls forward onto his desk.

“You’re an idiot, Waters.”

The sun emerges by the afternoon, so Gendry knows he can’t be seen again. But when she walks past again, she waves once more, grinning broadly.

The sunshine continues for the next several days, and she continues to wave at him every time she walks past.

Just over a week later, there is another dark and dreary morning. Gendry turns on his office light and hurries outside to see exactly how clearly he could be seen by her. He’s honestly shocked at how much he can see.

He turns to head back inside and almost jumps out of his skin because she’s _right there,_ looking up at him.

“Shouldn’t you be inside?” she asks, glancing up at his window.

“Um… I was just trying to see how much you could see,” he says.

“Quite a bit, I think you’ll find. But only when it’s dark like this and the lights are on inside,” she replies. Then she sticks her hand out. “I’m Arya.”

He takes her offered hand and shakes it. “Gendry. Um, nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

“You’re early today.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Observant,” she assesses. “And correct. I have to leave early so I’m starting early.”

“Oh.” He nervously clears his throat, then runs his hand through his hair. “Look, um—”

“Can I have your number?” she interjects, beating him to it. She pulls her phone out and hands it to him.

His mouth closes, then opens again. “Absolutely,” he answers, entering in his information, hardly believing his luck.

“Great, thanks,” she says, taking her phone back. She taps the screen a bit, saying, “I’m sending you a text right now.”

“Um, thanks,” he replies. “I should let you go so you’re not late. Have a good day, Arya.”

“You too, Gendry.”

The next week, after two amazing dates, she begins blowing kisses at him when she walks past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gendry's office is based on mine. Including the descriptions of the people walking past (yes, there actually was a shirtless guy with an eyepatch walking two dogs one day). Sadly, no Maisie though. But lots of good dogs.


	6. Laundromat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry and Arya are both in for a surprise at the local laundromat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Weltverbessererin

Gendry sits on the uncomfortable plastic chair and pulls out his phone. Just as he is opening up Netflix, he hears the slam of a dryer door on the other side of the laundromat.

_Oh no._

He’s always alone when he does his laundry. _Always_. Because he orchestrates it this way. He intentionally goes to the 24-hour laundromat at 4 a.m. because no one will be there.

That allows him to strip down to his boxer briefs and wash all of his clothes (except for the boxers). He doesn’t have a lot of clothes.

 _Well. Nothing for it now_ , he thinks, settling back onto the chair and making sure his phone is on silent. Maybe if he stays as quiet as possible, the other patron won’t notice he’s there.

It is only when she walks past him a few minutes later that he remembers there are snack machines along one wall, and he is currently positioned between her and them.

She doesn’t seem to notice him when she walked past the first time, but when she passes again, her steps falter just enough that he knows she has definitely seen him.

_Move along, nothing to see here…_

“Is there something I don’t know about this laundromat?”

_Damn it._

“What?”

She waves her free hand at him. “I realize this is a 24-hour laundromat, but are the early morning hours clothing-optional or something? I mean I don’t see a sign anywhere, but maybe it’s one of those secret things that you have to find out the hard way?”

“Um…” he clears his throat. “I don’t have a lot of clothes, so I try to wash as much as possible in one trip. That’s why I come on Tuesdays at like 4 a.m.,” he answers. “Usually there’s no one here.”

“I just moved here,” she says, leaning against a bank of washing machines and opens her bag of crisps. “I’m a nurse and have odd work hours.”

“Mmm,” he noncommittally answers. He notices she is watching him with interest, but not leering. Somehow it makes him feel better that she’s a nurse, because it means she has probably seen a lot of naked bodies.

“Would it make you feel better if I stripped, too?” she suddenly asks, standing up straight again. “Because I might be down for that.”

He swallows hard. She’s cute. Really cute, with a petite build that is slim and athletic but still very feminine. If they were in a pub he might have chatted her up.

Well, he would have _thought about_ chatting her up. He’s generally not good at talking to women.

“I don’t think that’s necessary, but I appreciate your enthusiasm,” he answers.

“Suit yourself,” she shrugs. “But don’t say I didn’t offer.” She walks back over to where her laundry is, and Gendry can’t help the feeling of disappointment that washes over him.

“Hey, do you know what the WIFI password is?” Her voice comes floating over the machines a few minutes later.

“Isn’t it on the board there?” he returns.

“Yeah, but someone got water all over it and I can’t make it out,” she says.

“Figures,” he grumbles. He gets up, momentarily forgetting that he’s only wearing boxer briefs, and walks over to the large corkboard on the wall. There are notices about items for sale, people offering guitar lessons, and a sign about a lost cat. In the center is the official sign bearing all the pertinent information. As she said, the WIFI password is pretty unreadable. “I think it’s…” His words fade away when he turns around to see her eyes quickly move from just below his waist to his face. Her cheeks are pinker than they were before, too.

“What?” she asks.

“If my memory is correct, based on what I can read here, it’s Storm_Suds1,” he says, telling his brain to shut up, because it is currently yelling _She was looking at your bum!_ at him.

“Suds! Right, suds, that makes sense,” she quickly says, ducking her head over her phone. “I could make out the ‘Storm’ part, but after the underscore I wasn’t sure. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he answers, turning to go back to his seat.

“Arya.”

“Hmm?” He stops again.

“My name is Arya.”

“Oh. I’m Gendry.”

She smiles. “Nice to meet you, Gendry.”

“You too,” he answers, gives her a slight nod, then returns to his spot.

About five minutes later, he gets an AirDrop notification on his phone stating that _No_One would like to share a photo with you._

He nearly drops his phone at the preview of the pic. It is clearly Arya’s bra-clad torso. He accepts it with a slightly unsteady finger and just _stares_.

“It just seemed fair!” Arya’s shout, laced with mirth, floats across the empty laundromat as Gendry starts laughing, dropping his head forward.


	7. Flat Tire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya gets a flat tire but her SUV doesn't cooperate so she needs to call for assistance.

Arya idly pokes around on her phone, waiting. Luckily, the weather is pleasant, so she doesn’t need to leave the car running for heat or air conditioning.

The guy on the phone said he would be there in ten minutes. It has been ten minutes.

Arya is just about to get really mad when the tow truck appears in her side mirror and rolls to a stop behind her.

She gets out of the car.

“For the record, I _do_ know how to change a flat. But it doesn’t exactly work when the spare is not cooperating,” she says.

He immediately holds his hands up. “I don’t judge,” he says. “Miss Stark, I presume?”

“Yes,” she answers, realizing she should have asked him to identify himself before defending her mechanical ability. “And you are?”

“Gendry,” he says. “And all Beric told me was that you were stranded.”

“Oh,” she dumbly replies. She remembers that the gravelly-voiced man identified himself as Beric when she called the garage. She walks towards the back of her SUV and points. “Apparently you’re supposed to put the end of the jack into that hole and crank it and the spare is supposed to drop down. It’s not doing that.”

He nods, frowning. “Not a very good design,” he mutters. “Let’s take a look.” He picks up the jack and does exactly the same thing she tried doing 20 minutes ago.

“I did that already,” she says.

“Indulge me,” he counters, and at her huff, he adds, “It is my job, you know.”

“Right. Sorry. Proceed.”

He does, and gets nowhere. Then he pulls a flashlight out of some pocket somewhere, drops to the ground, and slides his rather large body underneath her SUV.

All Arya can do is stare. She’s surprised at how limber he is. He’s huge; tall and muscular with a shoulder-to-waist ratio that would make Captain America jealous.

“Yeah, that’s a problem.” His voice is muffled from underneath her vehicle, but a second later he is scooting himself out from beneath it. “The wire that is supposed to unspool to release the tire is tangled on itself. That’s why it’s not working.”

“Shit. Can you fix it?”

He raises a stained hand and rubs the back of his neck, and her eyes are drawn to a bulging bicep. “Not here, I can’t. Will have to give you a tow to the shop. We’ll be able to put it on the lift and sort it out proper.”

“Shit. Okay,” she says, pulling her phone out.

“You have someplace you need to be?” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Just lunch with my mum and sister. I already told them I’d be late; now I’ll just tell them I’ll have to cancel,” she says.

“I can drop you—”

“I didn’t really want to go anyway,” she interrupts.

His lips curl into a small smile and it is only then that Arya really looks at him and sees how unbelievably handsome he is.

“Fair enough,” he says. “Get whatever you need out of the car and I’ll get this hooked up.”

“All right,” she replies.

Ten minutes later, when he offers his hand to help her into the high cab of his tow truck, their eyes meet and Arya decides that going to the garage with him is preferable to a stuffy lunch with Catelyn and Sansa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The unfortunate malfunction with the spare tire situation actually happened to me. Once again, no one that looked remotely like Gendry came to my rescue.


	8. Scout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya is a modeling/talent scout and spots Gendry at a cafe

“Excuse me,” a female voice interrupts Gendry’s morning tea. He stifles his exasperated sigh and looks up.

“Yes?” he asks. She’s a petite thing, but has a large presence. Charisma. And she’s beautiful in a real sort of way, the sort of beautiful that comes with self-confidence and a complete lack of caring about the opinions of others.

“I promise I’m not a… a stalker or creep or anything, but I couldn’t help noticing your eyes,” she says.

 _Here we go again._ “Yes,” he drily answers. “I have two of them.”

She laughs. “I’m sorry, perhaps I should explain,” she says, handing him a business card. “My name is Arya Stark and I’m with Wolfpack Talent. We handle actors, models, that kind of thing. My area of interest is specific… body parts, to put it simply. I think you could do very well with those eyes of yours. May I sit?”

Gendry it stunned. This is not where he was expecting this conversation to go at all. “Um, yeah,” he stammers without really thinking. “Uh, Gendry Waters,” he says as an afterthought.

She sits. “Nice to meet you,” she says then leans in very close. “That your real eye color? Not tinted contacts?”

“Yeah, it’s real,” he answers, then finally looks at her card. “This is a legit place?”

“Yes,” she answers, not offended. In this day and age, it is a very valid question. Then she seems to notice his hands. “Oh, you have very nice hands, too,” she says.

He looks at them. “Do I? They’ve got lots of burn scars…”

“That’s what makes them interesting,” she says. “But they are a nice shape and your fingers are straight and your nails are well-kept.”

Finally, some real questions start coming into Gendry’s head. “What would you use pictures of my eyeballs for?”

“Adverts, mainly. You know, for like eye drops or contact lenses. Even stock photos. You’d be surprised,” she answers, angling her head at him. “That jawline of yours is just screaming for a razor commercial, too,” she muses.

“What?”

“I’m quite serious and quite legitimate,” she says, standing. “My number is on the card. Feel free to Google us. Call the office and ask about me. Do all the research you want to do to until you’re convinced that this is a real offer. Then call me.”

He stands as well, finished with his tea, and watches as she watches him stand. He’s a good foot taller than she is, and he really likes the view of her pretty little heart-shaped face looking up at him.

“Oh, I think we could _definitely_ find all kinds of work for you, Gendry Waters,” she says extending her hand, which he almost absentmindedly takes and shakes. “Call me.”


	9. Airplane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Random seatmates on a flight from Braavos to Winterfell

Arya settles into her seat, leaning back and closing her eyes. The first-class airline seats are much larger than she really needs, given her small stature, but it’s nice to be able to stretch out for the long flight from Braavos to Winterfell.

Her father bought the ticket for her, his way of showing how excited he is to see her in person after three years.

She feels the motion of someone sitting beside her, but she doesn’t open her eyes. She has the window seat, so she isn’t in the way. She just hopes it isn’t some nosy person wanting her life story, or worse, someone who wants to engage in small talk.

“Would you care for a drink?” Arya decides to open her eyes for the flight attendant. The man in the seat beside her asks for a bottle of water.

“Miss?”

“Ginger ale, please,” she says, then notices the man giving her a sideways look. She tries to ignore it, but he keeps giving her slightly uneasy glances.

“Can I help you?” she asks after they receive their drinks.

“Oh. Um. Sorry. I just… are you feeling well? You asked for ginger ale, so I thought maybe you had motion sickness issues or something,” he says, his face growing redder the more he rambles.

She gives him a level look. “I just happen to really like ginger ale,” she answers.

“Oh.”

She tilts her head and asks, “Were you afraid I was going to spend the flight retching into that little paper bag?” She points to the airsickness bag in the pocket of the seat in front of her.

“A little,” he admits.

“No worries there. I’ve never had issues with that,” she says.

“Me neither,” he replies. “My best mate turns green if he even thinks about riding in the back seat of a car.”

“Oof,” Arya says, taking a sip of her ginger ale and making a big show of how much she enjoys it.

He chuckles a little, then picks up his phone to check the notification that just came in.

He remains quiet through takeoff and after, not even trying to look out the window or anything. Arya hadn’t been planning on talking to him again (even though she did notice he is very handsome and quite fit), but before she fully realizes it, she’s talking.

“Business trip?”

“Um, yeah. I got upgraded because I agreed to get bumped to a later flight. I was… sick of being with my coworkers,” he answers.

“Mood,” Arya replies with a chuckle. “Did you have, like, client meetings, or…?”

“Metallurgy convention,” he says.

“Ah. That sounds like a party,” she replies.

“If by ‘party,’ you mean three days of holding in my farts and pretending I don’t have social anxiety, then yes, it was quite the party,” he deadpans.

Arya bursts forth with surprised laughter at his amusing, self-deprecating candor, her hand coming to her mouth to ineffectively contain the noise. “Oh my gods,” she sighs. “I totally get it, but… that was hilarious.”

His serious face cracks into a smile, and his deep blue eyes soften as he looks at her. “Were you on a business trip too?”

“No, I live in Braavos now, but I’m from Winterfell. My oldest brother is getting married this weekend, so I’m heading home for that,” she says.

“Oh weird, I’m going to a wedding this coming weekend, too,” he says. “That’s an odd coincidence.”

“Be funny if it was the same wedding,” she says with a snort.

“Yeah, well, unless your brother is Robb Stark, which is unlikely…” he trails off at the look on her face. They stare at each other for about three seconds before he quietly asks, “Your brother is Robb Stark? Your dad is the _governor of Winterfell_?”

“Um, yeah. I’m Robb’s youngest sister, Ar—”

“Oh, shit, you’re Arya?” he nearly yells.

“Gods, what has he been telling you?” she asks, closing her eyes.

“You are a fucking _legend_ ,” he says. “You _punched_ Joffrey Baratheon and broke his nose!”

“Well, he cheated on my sister,” she says with a shrug. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Oh, he definitely deserves worse than a broken nose,” he says. “He’s my half-brother, so I should know.”

“Wait, wait, wait…” Arya says, trying to gather her thoughts. She thinks. “You’re… you’re Gendry?”

“Yeah, how did you know that?”

“Deductive reasoning,” she answers with a smile. “How is it that we have never met till now?”

He smiles back at her. “Probably because you’ve been living in Braavos,” he answers.

The look he is giving her is making her feel very warm and very _seen_ , like they are the only two people on this plane, and it prompts her to speak an idea that she has just started kicking around in her head.

“I’m thinking about moving back to Winterfell.”

“Oh really?” he asks.

“Really,” she answers, raising an eyebrow as she looks at him. “I’ve just been trying to figure out if it will be worth the trouble.”

His lips curve into a smile that is walking the line between sweet and filthy. He leans a little closer to her and says, “Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you with that little conundrum.”

She smiles back at him, a slow smile that she hopes looks seductive. "I'll do that."


	10. Jenny (867-5309)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya finds some intriguing graffiti in a pub bathroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one for Weltverbessererin

_For a good time, call 555-3221_

It is scrawled across the wall of the ladies’ bathroom in the Crossroads pub. The tidy printing gives nothing away about the writer of the missive.

Arya tilts her head at it, pondering who would have written such a thing and what type of person might the owner of the number be.

 _How cliché_ is her first thought. Then her inherent sympathy takes over and she snaps a photo of the graffiti.

Then she texts the number, sending them the photo and the message _Do you know this is on the wall of the ladies’ at Crossroads?_

Then she digs her bottle of hand sanitizer out of her purse and cleans the wall as best she can, concentrating her efforts on the number itself.

By the time she is finished, the mystery person has answered her text.

_WTF no, I didn’t! Thank you for letting me know._

_A: I cleaned it off FYI. I hope you’re not a jerk, because if you are, I’ll find a Sharpie and write it back on again._

Arya returns to her friends, but finds her interest in staying out and drinking has waned quite a bit. She doesn’t bother making up an excuse, simply telling them that she is going home. Luckily, her friends know her well and are good friends, so they don’t hassle her about it.

As she walks home, her phone buzzes again.

_I don’t think I’m a jerk. I also think I know who wrote it, and if I’m right, I’m going to break his legs._

Then, a second later, he sends _(Not really.)_

Arya smiles and replies _His? It was in the ladies’ room._

There is no reply for a bit, so she pockets her phone again, not taking it out again until she is inside her flat.

_He works there, and he’s a total shit. And it definitely was him._

She curls up on the end of her couch with a blanket. _Why?_

Why, indeed? Why is she continuing to converse with this stranger? Boredom? Curiosity?

_It was a fucking prank._

Arya rolls her eyes. Men can be such children sometimes. Before she can reply, he texts again.

_The joke being I am not a “good time.” I’m not very social._

She is impressed by his transparency, and wonders if he feels safer telling an anonymous stranger something like this than admitting it to someone in person.

_No law against not being very social, she replies. If everyone was the same, the world would be boring af._

It’s a safe answer, and one with which she isn’t very satisfied. So she adds _I appreciate your candor though._

There is a long pause before he replies again, and Arya begins to think he decided to stop. She turns on the television and flips through the channels until she finds something pleasantly mindless – a cooking competition show – to put on.

_What’s your name?_

The sudden vibration of her phone startles her.

_Arya. What’s yours?_

_Nice to meet you Arya, I’m Gendry._

Gendry. It’s a nice name, and he seems like a nice person, even if he claims to be antisocial and no fun. Her favorite brother is antisocial and no fun, so maybe she has a type.

_Hi Gendry._

Arya watches the screen, watches as the three dots appear and disappear and appear and disappear and appear and disappear. Finally they disappear and don’t reappear, and she frowns.

She is simply too intrigued, so she bites her lower lip, throws caution to the wind, and calls him.

When he actually answers, she nearly drops the phone because she pretty much expected him not to.

“Hello,” he says. Then, after a pause, he says, “Arya.”

She likes the sound of her name when he says it, which throws her a bit. “Hi,” she replies, gathering her thoughts. “So what was it you were trying to text and gave up on?”

“Um…”

“Come on, don’t be shy.”

A pause. She can almost hear the wheels turning in his brain.

“I was trying to find a way to ask you if you would send me a selfie, but I didn’t want to sound like a creep,” he finally admits.

“Oh, is that all?” she asks. “You did want one of my face, right? Not my tits or… my feet or anything right?”

He laughs, and she relaxes. “Yes, your face. Only if you want though. No pressure or anything.”

She feels a sly smile creeping across her face. “You first.”

“Oh! Fair enough,” he says. “Hang on.”

Arya waits, listening with amusement to the sounds of him shuffling around. There are a few soft curses, telling her his attempts at selfies are not going to his satisfaction.

“I hope you’re still there.” His voice is a little distant, and she smiles. “I’m not good at this,” he admits, and she starts laughing. “Okay, that will do.”

A few seconds later, she gets a text notification, but she doesn’t open it.

“Did you get it?”

“Yeah, but I haven’t looked yet. I’ll send you one now, and then we can look at them at the same time.”

“Um, okay,” he says.

She doesn’t tell him that it’s her own insecurity that is preventing her from looking at his pic first. Because if he’s really handsome, she’ll chicken out and not want to send one.

She adjusts the angle of her table lamp and snaps a few pics. Then she sends him the one she considers the best.

“Okay,” she informs.

“You were a lot faster than me,” he replies with a chuckle. “Should we look now?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I’m putting you on speaker.”

“Okay, I’ll do that too.”

Arya brings up their text thread and, once again, nearly drops her phone. He’s _unbelievably_ handsome. He’s barely smiling, but his eyes are the bluest she’s ever seen and his bone structure is off the charts. Not to mention the unruly black hair that looks perfectly tousled. She’s positive he doesn’t try to make it perfectly tousled; it just does that.

She is completely unprepared for the soft, stunned, “Wow…” she hears drifting from the speaker of her phone.

“What?” she asks.

“Oh. Um. I think I said ‘wow,’” he admits. “You’re… really pretty.”

“You think I’m pretty?” she blurts before she can stop herself. She takes one more look at his photo, then takes her phone off speaker.

“I think you’re gorgeous, actually,” he replies.

This emboldens her. “I think you’re gorgeous, too,” she says.

“You do?” Now it is his turn to retort in disbelief.

“Of course I do,” she answers. _Do I dare?_ “Hey Gendry?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you… do you want to meet for breakfast or something? I’m wiped and need to go to sleep now, but—”

“Yes,” he interrupts. “You know Hot Pie’s?”

“I _love_ Hot Pie’s.”

“How early is too early?” He sounds endearingly eager.

She laughs a little, and says, “I can meet you there at eight,” she says.

“Eight o’clock,” he repeats. He’s quiet for a second, then says, “Hey, Arya?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks. For texting me. And cleaning that shit off the wall.”

She smiles. “I’m really glad I did it.”

Hours later, Arya accuses Gendry of being a liar. He _is_ a good time. At least he is in her opinion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the title of this chapter doesn't make sense to you, you need to bone up on your 1980s music.


	11. Big Box Store

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya needs some help at a large warehouse store, and there's not an employee to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another prompt from Weltverbessererin

Arya walks to the end of the aisle, looks right and left, growls a little, then marches down to the other end and repeats the action.

There are still no employees in sight. And she’ll be damned if she’s going to walk around this giant warehouse posing as a store to track down an employee who may or may not even be able to help her.

She would just climb up, but the shelves are too far apart for her to manage it.

“Fucking Master of Coin… I wouldn’t even shop here if they didn’t have the best price for my—” She abruptly stops her angry muttering when a young man wanders into the aisle, coming close enough that he could probably hear her if she were to continue.

Arya looks at him. He’s tall. Very tall. And built. And handsome.

“Hey, can you help me a second?” she asks.

He stops, looking very much like a deer caught in headlights, then looks around to make sure she is addressing him. “I… I don’t work here,” he replies.

 _Damn, he’s hot._ “I know,” she says. “It seems _nobody_ is working here today, for all the employees I’ve been able to find.” She vaguely gestures to a shelf well above her head with a sign stating _Please ask for assistance with items on this shelf._

“Oh,” he says, looking down at her like he has only just noticed how short she is.

Arya’s mind wanders for a second, thrown by the way his bright blue eyes linger over her. If she didn’t know any better, she would think that he was checking her out.

She looks down and notices visible veins running the length of the muscular forearms on display beneath the rolled-up sleeves of the flannel shirt he is wearing.

“I don’t know if I can reach that shelf either,” he says, stretching his arm up. She gets a brief glimpse of abs before he drops his hand and says, “Maybe you could sit on my face.”

She blinks three times. “What?” she asks.

“My shoulders,” he says, carrying on like nothing weird just happened. “You could sit on my shoulders. I’ll lift you up and you could reach your fancy coffee up there. You can’t weigh very much.”

_Oh thank the gods, my filthy mind must have been playing tricks on me._

“Okay, sure, why not?” she says with a shrug, now beginning to struggle to remain casual.

He crouches down and she puts her hand on his shoulder, trying not to squeeze the firm, warm muscle she feels. _Oh fuck he is strong._ “Um, my name’s Arya,” she says. “We may as well introduce ourselves if I’m going to be climbing you like a tree.”

_I did not just say that._

He turns his head and looks up at her. “Nice to meet you. I’m Gendry,” he says with a small smile. “All right, whenever you’re ready, m’lady.”

“Don’t call me that,” she retorts, but proceeds to climb onto his shoulders, hooking her feet around his sides to anchor herself. He begins to stand and she automatically grabs a handful of his hair to balance herself. He grunts when she does this, and she apologizes.

“It’s okay,” he says. “You just surprised me.”

“Aha,” she proclaims, grabbing two cans of the special extra dark roast Dothraki coffee that she loves. “Are you able to grab one of these?” she asks.

“I think so,” he says, releasing her knee to extend a hand up. She puts the large can in his large hand and grabs one more. “Okay,” she declares.

“Hey! You can’t be doing things like that here!” An irritated voice calls out to them, and Gendry turns, Arya still on his shoulders, to see an employee striding towards him. “Don’t you see that sign?”

Arya balances her two cans of coffee on one hand so she can grab the sign from the shelf and throw it at him. “A lot of bloody good it does to require employee assistance when a person spends 10 minutes looking for an employee and never finds any bloody help!” she exclaims.

“Oh. Um. Right. Well. Sorry?” the worker awkwardly says, picking up the sign before beginning to back away from them.

“You can put me down now,” Arya says. She actually is quite content sitting on his broad shoulders. She has never been tall before, and can really see the appeal.

“Right,” Gendry says, then bends down again, ducking his head so she can hop off forward.

“Thank you,” she says, picking up the cans and putting them in her cart.

“You’re welcome,” he says. “Highlight of my day, actually,” he adds with a chuckle.

“Well, you’ve got an interesting story to tell your friends, anyway,” she replies.

“They’ll never believe me,” he says. Then his face reddens and he looks down as he adds, “Especially when I tell them how pretty you are, and… and how you were so nice to pretend not to notice when I accidentally said ‘face’ instead of ‘shoulders.’”

She blinks a few times again. “Oh shit, you actually said that? I thought it was my dirty mind projecting my thoughts.” 

“What?”

She knows her face is as red as his is, but she squares her shoulders and says, “It wasn’t the worst suggestion I’ve heard. Just saying.”

_“What?”_

She smiles, steps forward, and pats him on the cheek. “I did enjoy climbing you like a tree. We’ll have to do it again sometime,” she says, then begins to walk away, pushing her cart. She wills herself to remain calm despite her racing heart.

It takes him three seconds. “Wait! Arya!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed last week's update and almost missed this week! My brain has been elsewhere recently.
> 
> (And Master of Coin is the name of the Costco/Sam's Club-type store they're at, in case that wasn't clear)


	12. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry is stood up by his date... maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the lovelies in the Gendrya Discord. I don’t remember who originally shared this idea, so it’s for all of you.

“Still not here?” Arya asks, coming back to the table to refill the water glass belonging to the guy sitting alone at a table set for two.

“Nope,” he answers, beginning to sound resigned. “I don’t think she’s going to come. It’s been 45 minutes and she hasn’t answered any of my texts.”

Arya looks around, then sits across from him. “How many have you sent?”

“Two. The first at 15 minutes after she was supposed to be here and the second was just like five or ten minutes ago,” he says, looking at his phone on the table. “I might as well order something, since I’m taking up a table,” he mutters.

His face reddens a little, and Arya thinks it looks adorable on him. She can’t imagine how someone would be so cruel – and stupid, _look_ at him – to stand this gorgeous, seemingly sweet man up. “Order whatever you like,” she says. “Get dessert, too. I’m not gonna charge you for it.”

His eyes widen. “I don’t want you to get in trouble…” he says, but she can see his demeanor brightening a little.

“Pssh. The owner of this place is a softie. As soon as I’ll tell him what happened, he’ll insist on feeding you everything on the menu,” she says, standing again. “Now. What can I get for you?”

xXx

Gendry can’t believe his luck. When Anguy suggested this little scam to him, he thought he’d be lucky to get free dessert or maybe a free drink. But his entire meal comped? Worth suffering the humiliation of pretending he had a date that didn’t show up. Worth feeling like a tool because acting is not something he is comfortable doing.

And when his waitress is not only sympathetic but completely gorgeous? Bonus.

She returns with his meal and sets it in front of him. “I had them give you extra mashed potatoes,” she says. “Carbohydrates always make _me_ feel better.”

“Thanks,” he says. His steak looks amazing and his stomach growls so loudly he’s sure she can hear it above the significant ambient noise of the restaurant.

“Another bottle?” she asks, pointing to his beer.

“No, I’ve got to drive home. Just water, please,” he says.

“All right,” she answers, and he can tell she wants to ask if he’s sure he wants water and not a soft drink. But she says nothing and he gets the pleasure of watching her walk away, her long, strong legs carrying her swiftly and surely through the restaurant.

xXx

Arya looks at the slip of paper in her hand, wondering if she is brave enough to do what she wants to do. _It’s not pity. It isn’t. You genuinely fancy this bloke, and you want to see him again._

_It’s not creepy. Is it?_

She bites her lower lip, and pockets the slip of paper.

“How’s your lonely heart table?” Lommy asks behind her, startling her.

“Thoroughly enjoying his steak,” she says.

“And you’re sure it’s a girl he was waiting for?” he asks.

“Yes,” Arya answers, rolling her eyes. “He said ‘she’ several times.”

“He could be bi…” he muses.

“Back off, Greenhands,” she threatens.

He raises an eyebrow. “You gonna ask for his number then?”

“No,” she says, fishing the note out of her apron. “I’m gonna give him mine.”

“Right,” Lommy sarcastically replies, rolling his eyes. “You’re too chicken to do that. I know you.”

“I am not!” she protests, then stomps away, his barb giving her the push she needs to act.

xXx

“How was the pie?” the cute waitress asks, materializing at his table on silent feet.

He looks up at her. _Gods, she’s cute._ “It was fucking amazing,” he answers. “It’s a good thing the rest of it isn’t sitting out here or I would have eaten the entire pie.”

“Pies are his specialty,” she says, picking up his dessert plate. She hesitates for a moment, then reaches into her apron with her free hand. “Um, your meal is still on the house, but… here.” She sets a slip of paper on the table, face down, and disappears again. It looks like a bill, and Gendry picks it up, curious.

It’s a note.

_Call me if you want to go out with someone who would never dream of standing you up._   
_-Arya_   
_555-9384_

Gendry stares at the note and feels an unusually wide grin splitting his face. He stands and looks around, trying to spot her, his tiny adorable waitress, but she must be hiding from him, worried about his reaction to it.

Then, inspiration strikes, and he pulls out his phone as he walks to the doors.

He adds her as a contact, then sends a text.

_Call me when you get off of work so we can decide when you won’t be standing me up. IDC if it’s late. My name is Gendry, BTW._

When she calls him over two hours later, nearly at midnight, the first thing he does is confess that he didn’t actually have a date. He didn’t want the start of their acquaintance to be built on a lie.

When she laughs so hard at his little scam that she drops her phone, he knows she’s the one.


	13. Dog Park

Arya is sitting on a bench, watching Nymeria tussle with her friend Henry, a golden retriever, when she feels something drop on her foot.

She looks down to see a ratty-looking tennis ball and the expectant face of a very solid gray and white English bulldog looking up at her.

“Well, hello there,” she says, unable to stop her fond laughter. He’s built like a large block of concrete wearing a fur coat and she immediately likes him. Then he makes a snuffling snort-whine noise, headbutts her shin, and when he looks up at her again, his tongue lolls out and he smiles at her, panting.

Arya is in love.

“Do you want me to throw this?” she asks, picking up the ball. He snuffles again, grunts, and hops on his front feet a few times. “Okay,” she says, briefly looking around for his owner. Seeing no one heading towards them, she shrugs and tosses it.

Watching this brick with legs run away after the tennis ball is the highlight of her day. While she waits to see if he comes back, she watches Nymeria again, and sees that Henry’s owner is giving them both some water and ear scratches.

The ragged tennis ball drops at her feet again, and her new friend is now sitting like a proper gentleman, waiting for her to throw it again.

“Good boy,” she says, extending her hand forward, palm down, to let him sniff her. He sniffs, nuzzles, and licks her hand in quick succession before pressing his head into her palm. “All right then,” she laughs, stroking his head. He feels so much different than Nymeria. Her fur is long and plush. This chonky boy has sleek, short fur, but it is still very soft.

Arya runs her hand down the side of his face to his neck, looking for the tags on his collar. “Let’s see if you have a nametag,” she says. He has three tags on his collar: a dog license, a tag from the rescue organization, and one shaped like a bone that has a phone number on one side. She flips it over and reads—

“Anvil! Seven hells, there you are!” His voice yells the name just as she reads it, and she drops the tag.

She looks up to see a young man jogging towards them, and she slowly picks up the tennis ball as a way to keep herself from staring. He’s gorgeous, and she looks a mess in her yoga pants and hoodie, her hair up in a hasty ponytail.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, hooking a leash to Anvil’s collar. “He can be deceptively fast and sneaky,” he continues. “You wouldn’t think it to look at him, but—”

“It’s fine,” Arya interjects. “He brought me this,” she says, handing him the ball.

“Of course he did,” the man says, taking it from her. “And of course it’s completely gross; I’m sorry,” he adds, noting how the ball is coated with slobber and bits of grass.

“I’m not one to be deterred by a little dog slobber,” she says, smiling. “Mine is a virtuoso at completely soaking her toys,” she adds, just as Nym comes bounding back over. She flops down on the grass for a second, then goes about investigating the new dog in the vicinity.

“She’s a beautiful husky,” he says, sitting beside her on the bench. “What’s her name?”

“Nymeria,” she says. “Like the—”

“Dornish warrior queen, yeah,” he finishes with a nod. “Good name.”

“Can I ask… why Anvil?” she says, nodding at the bulldog, who is now awkwardly playing with Nym. Their size differences make it a bit of a challenge, but they seem to be making it work.

He chuckles. “Well, _look_ at him. He’s built like one,” he says. “And I’m a blacksmith, so… yeah.”

“He is very solid,” Arya allows. “You’re a blacksmith? That’s really cool.”

“Thanks,” he says, and his cheeks color slightly, making him look even more attractive, in a sweet sort of way. “And thanks for putting up with his antics. He’s still technically a puppy.”

“Not a problem at all. He’s great,” she says. “Um, I’m Arya,” she adds, deciding to introduce herself. She even holds out her hand, and immediately feels like an idiot for doing so.

But when his large, warm hand envelops hers and his blue eyes twinkle down at her and he smiles as he says, “Gendry. Nice to meet you. And Nymeria,” she suddenly doesn’t feel quite so dumb. Especially when he holds her hand just a little bit longer than necessary.

“You too,” she quietly says. She finds herself smiling up at him, a warm feeling coming over her as she looks at him.

He bites his lower lip and slowly releases it ( _Gods, why is that so sexy?_ ), clears his throat, and says, “Hey, um… there’s a coffee shop not far from here that has dog-friendly outdoor seating. Do you—”

“Yes,” she eagerly answers before he can even finish asking. Then, her cheeks aflame, she gathers her wits. “I mean, I’d love to, thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I posted in the notes of my recent update to "I'm Yours, You're Mine," my updates on this fic might not be as regular as they have been, due to the fact that I am starting chemotherapy for breast cancer next week. We'll see how much it wipes me out.


	14. Blind Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Shireen plays matchmaker.

“What?” Gendry asks, looking at his cousin Shireen, who has been staring at him with a strangely thoughtful look on her face. She came and sat beside him on the sofa in the corner of the room, where he had been trying to hide from most of the rest of his family.

“You’re not dating anyone, are you?” she asks.

“No,” he answers. “And to whatever you’re going to say next: No.”

“But I have a friend who I think is perfect for you,” she presses, undeterred. “I went to Uni with her up in Winterfell, but she lives here in King’s Landing now.”

“Too young,” he automatically dismisses.

“She’s my age, Gendry. And I’m what, four years younger than you? That would make a difference if you were 20, but you’re 27. You’re both adults,” she says. “And she’s really great."

“Sure she is. What’s wrong with her?” he asks.

Her face lights up, and he realizes he opened the door.

“Nothing!” she exclaims. “Well… nothing, really.”

He sighs and sets his beer down on the coffee table, not bothering with a coaster. _Fuck Cersei’s décor._ “What.” It’s supposed to be a question, but it doesn’t come out as one.

“Okay… how do I explain her?” Shireen starts, tapping her lips with her index finger. “She’s super smart, and funny, and so, so nice… to everyone. Unless you’re a dick to her. Then she’s relentless.”

“Ah, there it is. She has a horrible temper,” Gendry says. Shireen raises her eyebrow at him. “Shut up,” he adds.

“She _doesn’t_ have a horrible temper,” she insists. “She just has a very well-developed sense of fairness. If you’re a jerk for no reason, she won’t stand for it and call you out on it. That’s all. She’s not afraid of anything, really.” She pauses a moment. “And she _is_ pretty.”

“But?” he prompts.

Shireen sighs. “But… she’s a little insecure. Understandably so, though. And not in a way that’s off-putting. She has a big family. Several brothers and one sister who is a couple years older. Her sister is, in her words, ‘a perfect lady in every way,’ while she is decidedly not. She pretty much always does what she wants, and what she wanted to do growing up was everything that her brothers did. And her mum was… _is_ kind of hard on her about it, so it gave her a little bit of a complex, even though she doesn’t even want to be like her sister.”

Gendry doesn’t actually mind her not being a perfect lady. He’s dated girls like that and quickly lost interest. “That… doesn’t sound so bad. Why is she single though, if she’s so great?”

“Most guys find her intimidating, honestly,” Shireen answers. “She… she’s a force of nature, really. Chaotic good. She’s amazing. Really. Not afraid of anything, even though she’s a tiny thing. She’s shorter than I am. Oh, and she’s a Master level Braavosi Water Dancer, too.”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah. Does that put you off?”

“No, it’s fucking _impressive_.” Shireen grins, and he sighs before asking, “What does she do? For like, her job?”

“She’s a botanist. So can I talk to her about you? I won’t unless you say I can, I promise, but please say I can,” Shireen says.

“Why?” Gendry asks.

“Because I want you both to be happy. And I think she would make you happy. She’d really be a good balance for your grumpy ass,” she answers with a grin, giving him a playful poke in the side.

He squirms away. “I’ll think about it,” he says.

“Let me show you a picture of her,” she responds, pulling her phone out. She scrolls through some of her photos, frowning. “Wait, I think she has some good ones on her Instagram,” she mutters, then opens the app. “Aha,” she declares a moment later, then turns her phone towards Gendry.

 _Oh shit, she’s gorgeous._ “She’s cute,” he says, trying not to give anything away.

“Cute?”

“Fine, she’s really pretty, okay?” he admits, trying not to be too obvious about trying to get another look at her pouty lower lip and large, bright eyes.

Shireen grins proudly, putting her phone down. “Please?”

Gendry knows she’s not going to let this go. “Fine,” he relents, and she squeals in excitement and gives him a tight hug.

xXx

Shireen meets Arya for lunch two days later, on Monday. She listens while Arya regales her with the tale of her date from the previous Friday, secretly relishing the fact that it was a catastrophe.

“I’m about to give up on men, I swear,” Arya finishes. “I don’t know if I’m being too picky or if the men here are just… bleh, but…” she trails off with a sigh. “Maybe it’s me.”

“No, it isn’t you, I promise,” Shireen says. She bites her lower lip, then leans forward and says, “I actually kind of have someone I think you should meet.”

Arya leans back and raises an eyebrow at her. “Oh really,” she drily says.

“My cousin—”

“I am _not_ going on a date with one of those cretins!” Arya exclaims.

“Oh my gods, you honestly think I’d set you up with Joffrey? Besides, Tommen is too young, and Myrcella is taken,” Shireen returns. “I have another cousin, genius. He’s Uncle Robert’s son, but not Aunt Cersei’s. He was adopted by Uncle Renly and Uncle Loras so he grew up in Storm’s End and still lived there till recently. His job just relocated him here.”

“And why should I meet him?” Arya asks.

“Because he’s great. He’s my favorite cousin. He’s tall and I guess he’d be handsome if he wasn’t my cousin. He’s smart – he designs engines or something – and funny, but shy,” Shireen answers. “What?” she asks when she sees Arya suspiciously eyeing her.

“I’m waiting for the ‘but,’” she says.

Shireen sighs. “Fine. He can be grumpy, but it mainly only happens when he’s forced to be with a lot of people. He’s definitely an introvert and I think he has anxiety issues, but I don’t know for sure. He basically walks around with Resting Angry Face, but he’s very sweet. He just keeps it hidden,” Shireen explains. “I think you two would complement each other. You’re both stubborn, too, which could get… interesting,” she adds with a laugh. She reaches forward and squeezes her friend’s hand. “I just want you both to be happy, and I think – hope – that you might be able to make each other happy.”

“You’ve already told him about me, haven’t you?” Arya guesses.

“I promised him I wouldn’t tell you about him unless he gave his permission. And even though I’m actually more afraid of you than I am of him, well… I got to him first,” Shireen says. “Do you want to see a pic?”

“Sure, what can it hurt? I’m not saying I’ll meet him, but I’ll look at him,” Arya says as Shireen starts scrolling through her phone.

“Here,” she says, handing her phone over.

“Holy fuck, _that’s_ your cousin? He’s… wow,” Arya says. She peers at the picture, which is of the two of them standing together outside Robert’s house at Saturday’s party for Tommen’s birthday. “How tall is he?”

“I don’t know. Tall. Everyone is taller than you, so does it really matter?” she answers, taking her phone back. “If you can’t reach his face, just climb. It wouldn’t be a problem; he’s really strong. Oh yeah, that’s right! He’s into that ancient weapons shit you like! Oh bugger, I forgot to tell him that.”

“And he wasn’t… put off by what you said about me? Wait, what did you say about me?” Arya asks.

Shireen gives her a basic rundown of what she told Gendry, even admitting that she told him about Arya thinking herself unladylike.

Arya frowns. “Great, thanks.”

“Arya, he was reluctant, but not because of anything I said about you, honest. He was reluctant because he’s _Gendry_ and being reluctant to do anything that isn’t his idea is very much his brand,” Shireen says.

For some reason, that intrigues Arya. “Interesting,” she says.

“So you’ll meet him?” Shireen brightly asks.

Ayra sighs. “Sure. What have I got to lose at this point?”

xXx

Hot Pie’s Diner is the designated meeting place on Saturday. Casual, public, and since Gendry knows Hot Pie, it’s a place he will be comfortable. Arya has a knack for making herself comfortable wherever she is, so that wasn’t a concern.

Arya waits outside, standing with her hands behind her back, keeping her eyes alert for a giant with black hair.

Of course he approaches from the opposite direction from where she is currently looking.

“Arya?” a deep voice sounds behind her.

She turns and is faced with a broad chest, so she looks up and sees a face so handsome she nearly forgets her name for a second.

“Gendry?” she replies.

“Yeah,” he confirms, his cheeks coloring as he looks down at her. She’s even more gorgeous in person. “Um, hi.”

“Hi,” she replies with a smile.

When his Resting Angry Face dissolves and transforms into a smile, Arya feels her stomach flutter.

“Hi,” he repeats, then quickly says, “I mean, should we go in?”

“Yeah,” she answers, biting her lower lip as he steps up beside her. He even places a gentle hand on her back as he ushers her towards the door, which he opens.

She can’t contain her inexplicable grin as she walks past him and into the restaurant. And she doesn’t see his matching one behind her.

Hot Pie has to kick them out at closing time.


	15. In Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Gendry wake up the morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the rating of the collection changes to M. Mild smut in this one.

Arya slowly wakes, the pain in her head pounding like someone insistently knocking on a door. She stubbornly keeps her eyes closed, trying to go back to sleep so she can escape this torture.

But.

She’s too warm. _Far_ too warm. She tries to move, and her slow ascent into wakefulness turns into a rocket blasting off into full consciousness when she realizes she’s not alone.

There is a heavy arm around her torso, ending with a hand on one of her breasts.

There is an even heavier leg wrapped around hers. She can feel the coarse hair against her skin.

And she can feel warm breath evenly puffing against the back of her neck. It feels like his face is really close.

She ventures a hand down and back, groping.

Of course they’re both naked.

_That is the last time I drink Dothraki Fire Ale. Ha. Ale. If that’s what they call ale, I'd hate to see what their hard liquor is like._

Finally, Arya Stark opens her eyes to face her fate.

The arm’s (and, presumably, leg’s) weight is due to the fact that it is heavily muscled. _Not bad there._ He also seems to be quite tall.

She tries to shift, wanting to turn and see the face of this giant barnacle, but it proves very difficult. His arm even tightens around her, keeping her from moving.

But her squirming must be doing something, because at least _one_ part of him is waking up. She can feel it against her backside. She tries moving again, and this time she notices the telltale soreness and slight stickiness between her legs.

If she wasn’t sure about what happened last night before, she’s sure now.

She needs to move. She needs to see who this guy is. She needs to _pee._

So she pats his hand. He responds by squeezing her breast and shifting his hips into her from behind.

“Fuck…” she whispers, her traitorous body obviously remembering what her brain refuses to share with her.

“Hey,” she says, “wake up.”

He groans and she feels him press his face into the back of her neck. Then he hums and kisses her neck and shoulder a few times before—

“Shit!”

Suddenly, Arya is free, and she turns around to see a pair of bright blue (and red) eyes staring at her.

_Seven fucking hells he is gorgeous how did I pull him?_

A name materializes in her mind as she looks at him, accompanied by a flood of vague memories, flashing through her brain like porn watched through a frosted window.

_Almost getting kicked out of the Uber. Being pressed up against the door, his hand down my pants. Falling onto the couch, where I pulled off his shoes and jeans. Trying (and failing, oh gods) to give him a blowjob. Riding him like the bull he is before he flipped me over and—_

“It’s… Gendry, right?” she says.

“Yeah,” he answers. “You’re Arya.”

She blushes, ashamed at the fact that he had no trouble remembering her name.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I remember your name, but I have no idea how I got here,” he says, apparently very good at reading her face.

“We took an Uber. I think the driver almost kicked us out though because we, um…”

“Tried to have sex in his car?”

She furrows her brows. “I don’t think it was that bad, but I’m pretty sure a few too many of my shirt buttons got unfastened.”

He mirrors her scowl. “Yeah, I… I think I remember that. Um…” he pauses, exhales heavily, and says, “I don’t normally do this sort of thing. In fact, I strenuously avoid this sort of thing.”

“I don’t do this either. Flings. One-night stands. Whatever you want to call it,” she says. “But there must have been something about you,” she cautiously ventures.

His expression softens, and he posts himself up on one elbow, looking down at her. The blankets slip down and Arya gets a very nice view of his chest and a rather fascinating tattoo of a bull on one pec. “Yeah, I think so. You…” he pauses again, his eyes roving her face so long she begins to wonder how big a mess she looks. “Gods, I can’t even think right now. My head hurts too much and you’re far too distracting,” he admits, squeezing his eyes closed as he eases himself back down on the pillows.

“I’m what?” she asks.

“You’re too distracting, lying there looking all sleepy and gorgeous,” he says.

“What?”

“Let’s just say my brain isn’t getting the bulk of the blood flow right now.” He opens his eyes and looks over at her with an expression that can only be described as _hungry_.

“You think I’m gorgeous?” she asks in a very small voice, biting her lower lip.

He brings a hand over and caresses her cheek before gently tugging her lip out from under her teeth. Then he leans over and kisses her, just once, softly but slowly. “Oh yeah,” he confirms, then returns his lips to hers like he can’t help it. “This is even better now that I’m sober,” he murmurs between kisses.

“Gendry,” she sighs, dragging her hand out of his hair ( _when did it get there?_ ) to lightly push his shoulder.

“Oh. Sorry. You don’t want—”

“No, I do,” she interjects, her fingers running over his neck and shoulders. “But I really have to pee first.”

He laughs and falls away back onto his pillow, then says, “Ow,” and presses his hand to his forehead.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, sliding out of bed and quickly grabbing the nearest garment, which, of course, turns out to be his t-shirt. “Don’t… leave or anything?”

“Oh, I am definitely not going anywhere,” he answers, his statement underlined by the noticeable tenting of the blankets below his waist.

When Arya returns, she brings two bottles of water and some Tylenol for both of them. Gendry calls her an “absolute angel” but grins at her like the devil himself.


	16. Art Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya takes a pottery class

Arya feels a little strange going in to the art class alone, especially when there are others that are clearly there with friends. Sansa was supposed to take it with her, but she had too many scheduling conflicts and finally told Arya to just go ahead without her. And Arya has never been one to cower in the corner, so she holds her head high and finds a stool behind one of the pottery wheels.

The teacher walks in a few minutes later, just before the scheduled start time, striding in on long legs to the front of the small room in the basement of the local art museum. “We all here for Intro to the Pottery Wheel?” he asks, and everyone nods. “My name is Gendry and I’ll be your teacher for the next eight weeks.” Arya notices that she isn’t the only to think that their teacher is gorgeous. When he goes through the enrollment list to check that everyone is there, she almost rolls her eyes at how some of the other women in the class are already attempting to flirt.

“Arya Stark?” he says, getting to her name on the list.

“Yeah,” she simply answers, raising one hand.

Apparently she’s the last one, because he puts the paper down and looks directly at her. “You left-handed?” he asks.

“Um, yes?” she returns, puzzled.

“You raised your left hand,” he explains. “You’re going to want one of those wheels, then,” he says, pointing to a couple of wheels on the end.

“Okay, but why?” she asks, moving.

“Because it’s set up for throwing left-handed,” he answers. “It spins the opposite way.”

“Oh. I… I guess I didn’t realize that was a Thing,” she says.

He smiles, and she swears she hears the idiot girl across the way gasp. “That’s why I’m the teacher,” he answers. “Any other lefties here?” he asks. Everyone else shakes their heads, so he sits at the wheel in front of the class and grabs a ball of clay.

xXx

His hands are sinful. So are his forearms. And he’s always got dried clay on him, and Arya can’t figure out why she finds that so attractive. One day he had some in his hair and she could not stop looking at it.

Not only is he insanely hot, he’s a really good teacher, too. By the third week, Arya can already get a somewhat even cylinder and she is the best in the class at centering her clay. Possibly because she’s actually trying instead of flirting, despite how attractive she finds him. She paid for this class, so she’s going to take it seriously.

“Pretty impressive, considering how tiny your hands are,” Gendry observes after she is once again the first one to get her clay centered.

“What I lack in size I make up for in determination,” Arya answers. She ignores the derisive snort from the idiot who’s name she has learned is Jeyne.

“I can see that,” he replies, giving her a curious smile before moving along to help a rather hapless but cheerful young man called Hot Pie with his Disaster of the Week.

xXx

She gets to class early two weeks later because she worked late and it made more sense to go straight to class than to go home. Luckily, she anticipated this happening and brought a change of clothes.

“I hope it’s okay that I’m early,” she says, walking in to see him working on something. She sets her bag against a wall, out of the way. “I had to work late and… what are you making?” Intrigued, she moves closer. He’s using a different kind of clay than what they usually use, pulling it up higher into a tall cylinder.

“A snowman,” he answers, not looking up. “And it’s fine that you’re early.” He finishes his pull and looks up at her. “Go ahead and get started if you want.”

“I can?” she asks. She had been hoping she wouldn’t have to wait.

“O’course,” he says with a laugh, watching as she excitedly gets set up, pulling one of the things she made the previous week off the shelf and removing the plastic from it. It’s a smallish cylinder, but it’s the best thing she’s made so far. She sets it upside down and starts working on trimming the bottom so it is smooth and nice.

After a few minutes, she feels like she is being watched, and looks up. He _is_ watching her. “Do you want to make that into a mug? It’s a good size and shape for it. I can show you how to pull a handle and attach it.”

She bites her lower lip and is surprised to see his eyes flicker there for a second. “Sure,” she says, deciding that she can give it to Sansa if it turns out somewhat decent. “Should I finish this first?”

“Yes,” he says. She sees his snowman is looking rather more snowman-like, with a clear head and body.

“Why a snowman?” she asks.

“It’s for my mum. Her birthday is next month and she likes snowmen. My da pointed out that I’ve never made her a snowman, so I’m making her a snowman,” he simply says, lifting it off the wheel. “You finish trimming, I’ll get a scarf on this guy, and then we’ll tackle your handle.”

Arya thinks she could die from how adorable that is, but keeps her eyes trained on her project, determined not to ruin it now. “How come you’re using different clay?” she asks, her head still bent over her soon-to-be mug.

“This clay will be white after it’s fired,” he answers. “Easier for glazing.”

“Makes sense,” she answers, tilting her head this way and that, trying to decide if she’s done. She winds up carving a few horizontal stripes around the bottom half of the mug for a little decoration.

When she decides she’s done, she takes the cup and walks over to where he is. “Hey, that’s cute,” she adds. He has put a little scarf around its neck that he somehow got a pattern into, but she missed how he did it. “Needs a face though.”

“Tomorrow. He’s too soft now,” he replies. “Gotta put the scarf on now though because I learned that it cracks if I do it later. Clay shrinks when it dries, so the scarf needs to be the same, um, wetness as the body.”

 _Talk dirty to me_ , she thinks, but keeps her head and says, “That makes sense. How’s this?” She holds up the future mug for inspection.

“This is really good, especially for only being like five weeks in,” he says, taking it from her. “I like the lines. Nice subtle addition.”

Their hands touch and Arya hopes she isn’t blushing as hotly as she feels.

“All right,” he hands it back to her and grabs a blob of clay that looks way too big to be a handle.

“That’s a lot,” she says, following him to a sink filled with clay-saturated water.

“Trust me,” he says, dividing the ball in two. “Set that down, and do what I do.”

She sets the cup down and watches as he holds the ball of clay in his left hand with some of it hanging out of the bottom of his fist. She mirrors him, holding hers in her right. He dips his right hand in the water pooled in the sink, and she mirrors him again. He reaches up, moves his right hand over the clay, and gently pulls downward. He repeats the process a few times, dipping his hand every few pulls. The clay lengthens with each pull into an even, slightly flat, rope. Just like a handle that hasn’t been bent into a handle shape yet.

“It’s a bit like, um… milking a cow,” he says. She notices he doesn’t look at her when he’s talking.

Probably because the motion is _sort of_ like milking a cow, but a lot more like stroking something else. It’s extremely suggestive and very sensual.

 _Is he thinking about my hand… on him?_ she wonders. Because she certainly is thinking about that.

“Kind of,” she says. “I’ve never milked a cow—shit!” Her handle breaks off and falls into the water. She begins reaching into the water for it.

“Just start again,” he says, laughing, tension momentarily broken. “That’s why you start with a handful. Gentle, even pressure. You don’t want to strangle it.”

She nods and tries again, this time being more mindful of the pressure she is using. She is concentrating so hard on her task that she doesn’t notice he has stopped what he was doing and is just watching her.

“Arya?” he asks. His voice is softer than usual and she stops, looking up at him.

“Yeah?”

“Do you… I mean, would you like… um…”

“What?” she prompts, hoping he’s asking what she wants him to ask.

He exhales heavily, smashing the clay he is holding in his fists. “Never mind. You probably wouldn’t… I mean I’m sure you have a boyfr—”

“I don’t,” she interjects. “Or a girlfriend. I’m single.”

“You are?” he asks, bright blue eyes suddenly filled with something that looks like hope. She nods, and he says, “Do you want to… get a coffee or something after class? Or just… anything… anytime?” He huffs and says, “Fuck, I’m so bad at this. Do you want to go out with me?”

“Yes,” she answers with a smile, clay still dangling from her hand. “I do. I really do,” she admits. “I mean… it’s not against the rules, is it?”

He smiles and half-shrugs. “We’re both adults. You _are_ an adult, right?”

“Oh! I am 25 years old, I’ll have you know!” she huffs in mock offense, which makes him laugh.

“Just checking. Because you’re kind of small, you know.”

“Shut up,” she says, trying not to smile and failing.

“But no, it’s not against the rules. It’s not that kind of teacher-student situation. You’re not, like, getting graded or anything, yeah?”

Arya nods, then turns her attention back to her still-dangling half-made handle. “I would wait until after the last week if it was against the rules, you know.”

She sees him grin out of the corner of her eyes. “Noted, but thankfully unnecessary,” he says. “Tonight? You can choose.”

“Sure,” she answers. “But first, can you help me with this handle?”

“Oh! Right, yes, of course,” he says, as if he has suddenly remembered where they were. Emboldened by the shift in their acquaintance, he reaches out and puts his hand over hers, guiding it over the clay.

Arya thinks she might have brought the wrong sort of clothes to change into, because it seems her underthings are going to be in need of refreshing sooner than her outer garments.

“You have amazing hands,” she whispers, trying hard to concentrate on her task. He doesn’t make it easy.

“So do you,” he softly replies, sneaking a kiss on her cheek just before the first student comes bounding in.

By the time the rest of the class arrives, Arya’s phone has a new number in it and she gets the delicious petty joy of seeing Jeyne’s face when she walks in and sees Gendry leaning closely over Arya, helping her attach the handle to her mug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few of you may know this, but one of my other hobbies is pottery. So pardon my self-indulgence.
> 
> And I don't want to hear anything about the movie Ghost or Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore. Every potter HATES those jokes lol.


	17. For Sale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry is doing his shopping, unaware that he has a price tag stuck to him.

“Hey, you’re a bargain.”

Gendry whirls around, the voice at his shoulder taking him by surprise. “What?” He looks down and sees a beautiful, petite young woman looking up at him.

“I’d pay more than,” she pauses, peeling an errant price tag off of his sleeve, “twelve dragons for someone like you. Are you on sale?”

“What?” he repeats, completely dumbfounded, even after she shows him the price tag.

“I mean, you’re _easily_ worth fifteen. Twenty if you can say more than ‘what,’” she continues.

He blinks, biting back the “what” that was clamoring to escape. “Um…”

She tilts her head. “Well, that’s a start,” she says, then moves to look at his back.

“What are you doing now?” he asks. _Who is this strange girl and why am I still standing here like I’m under her spell?_

“Looking for your bar code so I can ring you up,” she says. “Hmm. I guess the price tag will have to do.”

“I’m not for sa—”

“I know that,” she says, huffing slightly. “You could have at least played along.” She presses the price tag sticker back on him, on his chest this time, and starts to walk away.

He stares, suddenly realizing he shouldn’t let this fascinating girl escape so easily. “Wait!” he calls out, and she stops, turning and giving him an expectant look. He takes a few steps towards her. “I’m on clearance, actually,” he starts, slowly approaching her. “Last one… need to clear me out before the new shipment arrives.”

“Is that so?” she asks.

He nods, right in front of her again. “In fact, they’re so desperate to get rid of me that there’s a free gift with purchase.”

She raises an eyebrow at him and the simple act is so enthralling he almost abandons his uncharacteristically bold line of thought.

“What’s that?” she prompts.

 _Fuck it._ “Dinner at a restaurant of your choosing,” he says.

She reaches out and tucks her hand into his elbow. “Can’t pass up a bargain like that,” she says, tugging him towards the front of the store.


	18. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya finds a lost wallet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Semperlitluv

“Is there any money in it?”

“Theon, really,” Arya answers, giving him a look. “I’m not going to steal from… Gendry Waters.” She looks again at his driver’s license. It’s a terrible picture, like most of them, but she can still tell he’s very handsome.

“Let me see,” Theon says, reaching for the wallet. Luckily, Arya is faster and snatches her hand away just as Robb returns to their booth in the diner.

“What are you going to do?” Robb asks, nodding at the wallet.

“I guess I can take it to the address here,” she answers. “Too bad IDs don’t have phone numbers on them. That would be so much easier.” She sets the wallet down on the bench seat beside her to keep it safe from Theon’s grabby hands while she punches the address in her phone.

“Can we have lunch first?” Theon asks. “Maybe he’ll come back in looking for it before we leave. It would save you a trip.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Robb agrees. “I’ve got a good view of the door from here. Let me see his picture.”

Arya sighs and hands it over.

“Ooh, he’s hot,” Robb declares, Theon nodding his agreement from Robb’s shoulder, where he had leaned in to look. Robb hands the wallet back to Arya. “Get you some,” he adds.

“Not something one wants to hear from one’s brother, but… thanks, I guess,” Arya answers, setting the wallet down to smile up at the waitress.

They are well into their lunches when Robb’s eyes suddenly grow as wide as saucers. “Arya! It’s him! Go! Go!” he whisper-yells, frantically gesturing with his free hand.

Arya is suddenly nervous, but she steels herself, picks up the wallet, and starts walking towards the hostess station.

He sees her coming and his eyes move from her face down to the wallet in his hand and back to her face. His expression is interesting: a mixture of relief and something else. Interest?

_Nah. Couldn’t be._

“Um, hi,” she says. “I think you left this behind.” She holds out his wallet. “We were watching for you.”

He takes his wallet back, and Arya can’t help noticing how huge his hand is compared to hers. Yet he takes it gently, almost delicately.

“Thanks,” he says. Some other people enter the diner, and they simultaneously move to the side. “Um, I’d like to give you someth—”

Arya holds up her hand. “No. Thank you, but no. Please. I only did what was right.” He hasn’t even looked inside his wallet to see if his money was still there, which impresses her.

“Not everyone would,” he says.

“Well, I’m not everyone,” she counters.

He looks at her for a beat before saying, “I can see that.” A small smile plays at the corners of his lips, and Arya decides she likes the look of it very much.

“I’m Arya,” she says, holding her hand out.

“Gendry,” he replies, clasping her hand in his. “But you probably knew that already.”

She nods.

They stand there for an awkward second before he seems to remember where they are. “Well, um, thanks again… I should let you get back to your lunch.”

“Um, yeah,” she says, no longer really caring about her club sandwich. “Have a good afternoon, Gendry. And you're welcome.” She gives him a smile, then turns to head back to her table.

“Hey, Arya?” His voice cracks when he calls out to her, and the nervous sound makes Arya smile a little as she turns around. “Can I… can I have your number?”

“Definitely,” she answers, and the shy grin that spreads across his blushing face makes her feel all warm and stupid inside. “But only if I can have yours too.”

“Definitely,” he echoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask me why Arya didn't just turn in the wallet to the manager or hostess. Because my answer will be "I needed a plot."

**Author's Note:**

> I am accepting prompt ideas for this collection!


End file.
